"Oh no. I have only been a burden."
"Modesty can go too far. I can tell you that the very fact of your having saved her from loneliness repays all your debt to her. Don't be down-hearted about your obligations in that direction."
"Still—-"
"You've got too much conscience," said Mr. Browne. "You're over-ballasted; I'd throw a little overboard if I were you. And I'd keep clear of Darkham, anyway. He's got a nasty turn of jaw."
"He's nasty every way," said Agatha, sighing. "But, then, what am I to do? Aunt Hilda is so angry, and poor Jack is—-"
"Poor! It's a conundrum," said Mr. Browne thoughtfully. "But there must be ways of solving it."
Here he turned and caught sight of something—some one— between the branches of the rhododendrons. Dicky knew him at once. It was the tall young doctor standing at the gate. Why did he not come on? Dicky in a moment guessed that conundrum, at all events. Dillwyn had come there to meet Agatha alone, and was waiting for him to go away. Mr. Browne felt, with a distinct acceleration of spirit, that Dillwyn did not know who Agatha's companion was at the moment. It is sometimes hard to distinguish people through swaying branches.
It was perhaps a little unfortunate that Nature had endowed Dicky at his birth with the spirit of mischief. It is so difficult to strangle Nature's gifts.
"We must wait, I suppose," said Agatha.
Mr. Browne cast a backward glance toward the little gate.